


Breakfast

by PaintingWithDarkness



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Bluepulse, Cute, Dorks, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Heavy make out, Innuendo, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, Speedbuggy, fluff fic challenge, normally my stuff isn't this bad, oh well, this got more risque the more I wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintingWithDarkness/pseuds/PaintingWithDarkness
Summary: Bart makes Jaime breakfast.





	Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluepulsebluepulse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluepulsebluepulse/gifts).



> I wrote this after being challenged by @lifewhyyoudothisquestionmark on tumblr to write an all fluff fic for bluepulse. Hopefully I did okay, hermano. LOL XD

Jaime awoke to the alluring smell of bacon wafting in through the open door of the bedroom. It was Saturday, and in his opinion, there was nothing better to wake up to than knowing someone was in the kitchen cooking something delicious for breakfast… Okay, let him rephrase. There was nothing better to wake up to than knowing someone was in the kitchen cooking something delicious,  _ unless _ he could chose waking up next to Bart. 

 

When he rolled over and found Bart’s side of the bed empty and the sheets cold, a brief wave of disappointment flowed through Jaime. Usually, the speedster was up before him, naturally needing less sleep because of his metabolism; therefore, finding Bart’s side of the bed abandoned in the morning was a common occurrence. Despite the familiarity of the routine however, it always saddened Jaime to find Bart gone from his side in the morning, rather than curled up against him where he should be. 

 

On the rare occasions that Jaime did actually wake before Bart however, he would roll over and sling an arm around his boyfriend, pulling them flush against one another and then drop little kisses over his pale neck and cheeks, and in his messy auburn hair. He would continue until Bart inevitably woke up, green eyes still dull with sleep, and then pull him in closer for a real kiss, smiling against his lips when Bart would finally reach the level of consciousness required to kiss back. They would spend a few minutes close together, enjoying the taste of one another and the warmth the proximity of their bodies always created before slowly parting. Jaime would then reach up and cup the side of Bart’s jaw, just around the corner, so that the tips of his fingers could bury in the auburn strands that always curled around his ear, and gently swipe his thumb over the swell of Bart’s cheek. “Te amo. Buenos dias,” were always the first words out of his mouth, sounding husky and heavily accented due to the previous hours of disuse his voice had gone through throughout the night. They would garner a soft smile from Bart, who would reply, “Morning, Babe,” and then the two would necessarily, but regrettably leave the warmth of the sheets and bed behind to put a start to the day ahead. 

 

Unfortunately, Jaime would not enjoy his favorite wake up call today, but he may have been willing to forgive Bart, depending on how good breakfast tasted. He raised his arms above his head in a stretch and gave a yawn before sweeping his legs out from underneath the duvet. 

 

Sleepily, Jaime shuffled his way to the kitchen of his and Bart’s apartment, where he found his messy-haired match standing at the stove, spatula in hand, still clad in his pajamas. Jaime walked up to him and wrapped his arms around the speedster’s waist. “Mornin’,” he muffled against Bart’s clothed shoulder. 

 

The younger man finished flipping a pancake over in the skillet on the burner in front of him before turning to give Jaime a kiss. “Morning to you too, Sleepyhead,” he said with a smile. 

 

Jaime hummed. Bart had tasted sweet. “Chocolate chips?” he asked, spying the open bag sitting on the counter. 

 

Bart chuckled. “Couldn’t help myself. Plus, I know they’re your favorite.” 

 

Jaime couldn’t argue with him there. Bart knew him too well. Though he hoped after seven years of dating and a few years of being friends before, that that would be the case. Chocolate chip pancakes were his one true weakness, and having Bart make them for him was the icing on the cake. 

 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Jaime asked, kissing him again. 

 

Bart laughed. “Only about a hundred times a day.” 

 

Jaime pretended to be shocked. “Only a hundred? I guess I better step up my game.” He proceeded to smother Bart’s face in kisses, pressing them to his forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, cheeks, nose, lips, chin- wherever he could reach. 

 

“I love you, too,” Bart giggled, trying to playfully shove Jaime away. “You’re gonna make me burn the food!” 

 

Eventually, the Latino ended his assault, if only to save his precious pancakes. While Bart was finishing up the cooking, Jaime made himself busy with setting their places at the table, getting out syrup and butter for the pancakes, and pouring coffee. 

 

“Seven in mine!” Bart called to him when he saw Jaime adding sugar to his mug. 

 

Jaime shook his head. Bart’s “coffee” was already half creamer, if that. While Jaime’s mug was filled with actual brew and a splash of creamer, Bart’s was the exact opposite. And now his boyfriend wanted him to add seven packets of sugar on top of it. 

 

“Khaji says you’re going to get diabetes. He’s already complaining about the chocolate chips and syrup.” 

 

Bart stuck his tongue out. “Tell the bug to stuff it. I’m going to enjoy my sugar until the day I die.” 

 

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “I’m hoping that’s not soon. I don’t want you to leave me a widower before I hit thirty.” 

 

Bart smirked. “Awww, Babe, is that a marriage proposal I hear?” 

 

Jaime blushed crimson. He and Bart had discussed marriage briefly before. Both of them wanted to get married someday. Actually, Bart seemed more enthusiastic about it than Jaime would have expected. But they were both young. Jaime was only twenty-six, and Bart was younger still at twenty-three. Sure, they’d been dating steadily for awhile- seven years was no joke- but both of them wanted to make sure they were ready. Marriage and a life-long commitment wasn’t something either of them wanted to rush into. 

 

Jaime tried to redirect the conversation. “You ignored the part about you dying before thirty,” he said. “I’m the older one in this relationship, therefore, I’m supposed to die first. You’re not allowed to die on me.” 

 

Bart gave a harsh single-syllable laugh. “But it’s okay for you to die on  _ me _ ? Are you trying to play God, Mr. Reyes? Telling me when I’m allowed to die?” 

 

Jaime shrugged, carrying the coffee mugs over to the table. “If it means you live to a ripe, old age, then yes.” 

 

Bart had a frown on his face as he carried the plate of pancakes over to the table. “I don’t want you to die anytime soon either, Jaime. I don’t think I can imagine my life without you somewhere in it.” 

 

Jaime found a sad smile working its way onto his lips. He went over to the refrigerator and retrieved the can of whipped cream from within. When he came back to the table, he grabbed Bart’s plate, loaded six pancakes and five strips of bacon onto it, and then drew a smiley face on the top cake with the white cream. 

 

“Here,” he said, handing the plate to his crestfallen boyfriend. “You can’t be sad while eating smiley-face pancakes. Muerte is not something you discuss over panqueques.” 

 

Jaime loaded up his own plate with three pancakes and a few strips of bacon before adding a squirt of whipped cream to his own stack for good measure. 

 

Bart picked up his fork, went to take a bite, and then paused. He set the fork down, and held out his pinky to Jaime, a serious look on his face. “You have to pinky promise me that you won’t die soon,” he said. 

 

Jaime reached forward to wrap his own tanned pinky around Bart’s pale one. “I, Jaime Reyes, promise you, Bart Allen, that I will not die anytime in the near future.” 

 

That brought the smile back to Bart’s face. He stood up to kiss Jaime over the table, their pinkies still entwined between them. “I, Bart Allen, promise you, Jaime Reyes, that I will not die anytime soon, either.” 

 

Jaime brought their entwined hands up to his mouth and kissed the backs of Bart’s knuckles. “Good,” he said, “Now that that’s sorted out, I need to eat the amazing breakfast you’ve made. I can hear these pancakes calling my name.” 

 

Bart laughed, sitting down and picking up his fork. He watched as Jaime took his first bite. 

 

The Latino moaned at the delicious taste of the fluffy cakes and chocolate melting over his tongue. Bart’s cooking was superb. He’d gotten the pancakes just right. 

 

“You are a godsend, Cariño.” Jaime groaned at the taste of the second bite as well. 

 

“Wow, Babe,” Bart had a seductive grin on his face, “If I’d’ve known all I had to do was give you pancakes to hear you moan like that, I would have suggested breakfast in bed a long time ago.” 

 

Jaime decided to play along. “If you hadn’t left me alone this morning, I  _ could have _ had breakfast in bed.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

 

Bart chuckled. “I’ve always thought of myself as more of a dessert, actually.” 

 

Jaime gave a small laugh of his own. “I won’t deny you that, mi amor. It was sweet of you to make me breakfast this morning.” He leaned over the table to kiss Bart, the taste of chocolate now very prevalent in both of their mouths. 

 

“You’re welcome,” Bart said, when they separated again with a wet smack. 

 

Both men turned back to their breakfasts. Bart had done an amazing job with the food. The pancakes were a perfect golden color, and the chocolate chips were still melting, making each bite smooth and rich. The syrup and whipped cream may have been a little overkill on the sweetness, and Khaji Da was definitely going to give him a lecture about his and Bart’s sugar intakes, but Jaime was going to enjoy what Bart had done to its fullest potential. He was entitled to treat himself every now and again, and he knew that his boyfriend had been craving sugar lately, so he was willing to ignore the AI’s ramblings. Usually, Jaime listened to what the scarab had to say and was tough on Bart whenever the speedster begged him for candies and treats. He knew that for as much energy as Bart expended during their superheroing with the League, he couldn’t be putting that kind of crap into his body. Therefore, Jaime tended to make sure they both stuck with a healthy diet. This time though? The smile and genuine enjoyment on Bart’s face were too cute to say no to. 

 

In the end, Jaime ended up eating five pancakes, four strips of bacon and two cups of coffee. Bart had nine pancakes, seven pieces of bacon, a cup of coffee and two glasses of orange juice. When the speedster had gotten up to pour himself another mug of creamer-sugar sludge, that was where the Latino had drawn the line on Bart’s sweet tooth, and made him substitute the saccharine concoction for something that wouldn’t put him into a sugar coma. 

 

“So what now?” Bart asked, once both men were full and contented. 

 

Jaime stood up, collected his plate, silverware and coffee mug and dumped them into the sink in the kitchen. “Dishes.” 

 

Bart groaned, but followed the Hispanic man into the kitchen with his own plate, mug, glass and fork. He retrieved the dish towel from where it was hanging from the handle of a nearby cabinet. 

 

Jaime began quickly washing the dishes he and Bart had used to eat on, and the pans and bowls Bart had used to cook. Meanwhile, his auburn-haired boyfriend stood next to him, drying and putting everything back away in its respective place. When Jaime finished up, he stole the towel from Bart to dry his hands and then playfully looped it around the back of Bart’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. 

 

“Thank you for cooking and helping to clean up,” Jaime said when they separated again. 

 

“No need to thank me,” Bart replied, “though if you do feel obligated,” he disappeared for a brief second before returning with the can of whipped cream in hand, “I’ve been told this is multipurpose.” His jade eyes roved over the exposed planes of Jaime’s chest and settled at the enticing V of his hips, leading down further past the waistline of his checkered pajama pants. 

 

Jaime shivered slightly at the lust-filled look Bart was now giving him. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he whispered, leaning in close to Bart’s ear. He placed a kiss just below the lobe, right at the junction of Bart’s jaw and neck, earning a soft, whimpery moan in response. 

 

Jaime’s hands settled at Bart’s hips, slowly walking him backwards out of their kitchen as they rejoined lips in a passionate kiss. When Bart’s back eventually hit the wall in the hallway, Jaime moved one hand down to the speedster’s ass to press him closer, and used the other to support himself against the green-painted plaster. Bart’s arms wrapped loosely around his neck, one hand warm against his shoulder blade, and the other still holding the can of whipped cream, the cool metal side of the canister bumping up against the shell of the scarab, causing Khaji Da to chirp a complaint in the back of his mind. Luckily, Jaime was used to the scarab giving him “advice” and making comments about his performance whenever he and Bart got a little hot and heavy, so he was able to tune it out relatively easily. 

 

Jaime trailed sloppy kisses down the side of Bart’s neck, both hearing and  _ feeling _ the vibrations of the groan his boyfriend let out against his lips. He hooked a finger into the neckline of Bart’s shirt, pulling aside the collar so that he could follow the jutting curve of his clavicle, and leave little pecks on Bart’s pale, freckled shoulder. 

 

“Off,” Jaime demanded, tugging at the hem of the speedster’s shirt when he ran out of room to kiss. Obediently, Bart removed it, dropping the yellow-sleeved article to the ground, however, before Jaime could pin him back to the wall again, Bart grabbed him by the biceps and flipped their positions. Jaime’s expression immediately shifted to one of surprise, while the younger man returned the look with a leer; eyes lust-darkened and half-lidded, teeth slightly digging into his plump lower lip, one auburn brow raised, and the other upturned alluringly; it made Jaime want to forgo the foreplay altogether and jump Bart right then and there in the hallway. 

 

He was startled slightly from his heated thoughts when he heard the sound of Bart shaking the whipped cream can. The younger man used his left hand to pin Jaime’s shoulder to the wall, and then used his right hand to spray a line of whipped cream down Jaime’s sternum. Crouching slightly, Bart stuck his tongue out, touching the tip of it just to the edge of the line of cream he’d created, and looked up at Jaime through his titian lashes, meeting the Latino’s blazing caramel eyes. Slowly, he made his way up Jaime’s chest, lapping up the whipped cream as he went, making sure that he kept eye contact the entire time. When he was finished cleaning the entirety of the sweet treat from his boyfriend, Bart pulled back, standing to his full height and licking his lips. 

 

Jaime shuttered. “Fuck, that was hot.” 

 

Usually the Latino wasn’t one to curse, but when he and Bart were caught up in the moment, the occasional expletive could slip past his filters. And what Bart had just done? The languid way he had used those hot lips and tongue of his to lap up the cold whipped cream from his chest, and the way he had maintained contact with those sinfully dark forrest-green eyes of his?  _ Yeah _ , that definitely warranted the breathless curse. 

 

The speedster leaned in and kissed him, nipping and licking at Jaime’s lower lip to gain himself access. When the Hispanic man did finally give in to his boyfriend’s persistence, and their tongues finally tangled together, the flavor of the sweet cream flooding over his taste buds made him moan. 

 

“Bedroom?” Bart panted when they pulled away from one another for breath. 

 

“Bedroom,” Jaime replied. 

 

Within a few moments, both men stumbled into the bedroom at the end of the hall, kissing passionately before tumbling down onto the bed. Jaime propped himself up over Bart, continuing the heated lip lock as he reached for the hem of his boyfriend’s pants. 

 

**_RING RING_ **

 

The sudden sound of Jaime’s cellphone going off on the nightstand startled them both. 

 

When Jaime made a move to retrieve the phone, Bart grabbed him by the wrist. “Ignore it,” he begged, arching up against Jaime in a bid to convince him. 

 

The Hispanic man sighed, but managed to spare enough blood to use his smarter head. He reached for the phone again, and quickly checked the caller I.D. 

 

“Maldita sea,” Jaime cursed. He tried to get his breathing under control. 

 

“Hi, Barry!” Jaime answered the phone, hoping he didn’t sound like he’d just been about to fuck the man’s grandson. Despite Bart being more than old enough to make his own decisions, and the fact that Bart was not exactly “innocent” anymore, Barry was still overly protective of him. 

 

Bart, who had sat up to see what call was so important his boyfriend had stopped mid-make out to take, groaned and slapped both hands to his face, falling back down onto the pillows with a flop. 

 

“Cock-blocked by my own grandfather. So. Not. Crash,” he groaned.  

 

Jaime dragged a hand through his hair. Barry greeted him back (thank god, he didn’t sound skeptical, so Jaime must have done a good job masking his panting and the arousal in his voice) and then proceeded to ask if Bart was around, and if he could speak to him. 

 

Jaime cast a glance at his boyfriend. It was clear that the mood had been effectively ruined as soon as the former Flash’s name had come off his lips. Bart still had his hands over his face, as though he could somehow hide from the phone call and his embarrassment. Despite Barry not actually being there in person, it felt like he and Jaime were teens again, sneaking around on the Watchtower with condoms in their pockets, trying to find an empty room and avoid running into the Flash on their way there. 

 

Very begrudgingly, Bart took the phone when Jaime held it out to him. 

 

“Hey, Gramps.” 

 

Jaime could only hear one side of the conversation now, and judging by the guilty look that was slowly forming on Bart’s face, Jaime knew it wasn’t good news. Likely, Bart had made some kind of deal with Barry and had forgotten to uphold his end of the bargain. Unfortunately, over the ten years Jaime had known him, Bart had kept up this pattern of behavior, and usually looked at Jaime to help get him out of the difficult situations. As much as Jaime wanted to tell Bart to handle it on his own, considering he had gotten himself into the mess to begin with, the Latino loved the speedster too much to let him suffer on his own. 

 

Eventually, Bart ended his conversation with Barry and hung up. “Yeah, Grandpa. Uh huh. Jaime and I’ll be over soon. See you soon.” 

 

Jaime gave his boyfriend an accusatory look. Bart only gave him a nervous chuckle in response, handing the phone back. 

 

“I uh, maybe, kind of, sort of told Gramps we would watch my dad and aunt Dawn today while he and Grandma visit Joan and Jay.” 

 

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Fine. Get dressed.” He stood up from the bed and walked over to his and Bart’s shared wardrobe to pull out some clothes for himself. 

 

“And go put the whipped cream back in the fridge. It’ll go bad,” Jaime added as an afterthought. He turned to look back over his shoulder at the younger man. 

 

Bart had a grin on his face. “You mean you don’t want me to leave it here for breakfast tomorrow morning?” He upended the canister and squirted some into his mouth before cocking the hand on his hip confidently, swallowing down the whipped cream. 

 

Jaime blushed heavily. Now that the rush of testosterone and hormones had left his system, he wasn’t as confident in his flirting as Bart tended to be. “Dios mio! Get dressed!” He dug into the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out one of Bart’s shirts, turning and whipping the article at the sly speedster, hitting him in the face. 

 

Bart only gave a muffled laugh in response. He would be up before Jaime again tomorrow. He could just go get the can from the refrigerator before he woke up and then he would give Jaime the best breakfast in bed he could imagine.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please go check out my tumblr @paintingwithdarkness. The matching fanart piece I did for this fic is up on my blog. 
> 
> Additionally, please go check out @lifewhyyoudothisquestionmark on tumblr. He does amazing bluepulse fanart that is to die for. You can also check out his bluepulse fanfics here on AO3 under his username bluepulsebluepulse. 
> 
> As always, feel free to leave comments! I promise I'll reply if you do!


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